


Smells Like Home

by San121



Series: The many faces of Drake [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Resturants, Alternate Universe- YouTube, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:28:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/San121/pseuds/San121
Summary: There are an infinite amount of universes, where one small detail changes everything. Here is the one where Tim Drake never became Robin, instead deciding to feed the Robins, Gotham, and his 17 million subscribers.





	1. Hungry Birds

**Author's Note:**

> This "story" will not really follow a time line. Once I get further into it, I may post a timeline to my tumblr and share a link here.

It’s been years since Jason had been on this side of town, where the buildings were this weird combination of nicer and worse. It looks like, during his time “out of town”, the buildings got nicer and weirdly affordable. Strolling past a diner, Jason nearly stumbles when he sees Brown flirting with a very attractive- woman? man?- person, who seems to be flirting back. The person has chin length black hair and bright blue eyes, both striking against their pale skin, making Jason think back to the Shakespeare plays with ethereal characters. They make eye contact with Jason, knocking the breath from him while their cheeks pinken (and are their ears pinkening too? Cute) before they turn and flee behind the counter. He’s broken from his staring by Brown knocking on the window, looking like a judgmental bitch. She points at the door of the diner and raises an eyebrow. Jason scowls, but still goes to the door, entering the diner and strolling to Brown’s table, sliding into the bench across from her.

“So, do you make it a habit of staring at waiters, or is he special?” Brown snarks, her grin shark like. Jason sneers at her.

“You can shut your fucking mouth, Replacement,” Jason growls, crossing his arms defensively while Brown’s grin seems to grow. Jason looks around the diner curiously, noting the wall full of pictures with the banner “Wall of Shame” across the top with grinning people holding up a shirt with “I failed the Junkyard Challenge” and the same waiter usually leaning over them with a shy smile.

“What is this place?” Jason asks, still looking around the diner.

“Welcome to Drake’s Diner, I’m Tim and I’ll be taking your order,” a soft voice says from beside the booth. Jason looks up and sees the- gorgeous, pretty, lovely- person from before.

“Hey, boyfriend. Can you give this dork your number?” Brown asks, tilting her chin at Jason. The man rolls his eyes, his tone shifting to teasing and at a normal volume, “The way you said that makes me seem unavailable. Also, stop trying to set me up with people you know. You’re trying to give me a heart attack. I refuse, Steph, I refuse.” Brown cackles while Jason raises his eyebrow at the fondly disgruntled look on the waiter’s face.

“Aww, but Tim,” Brown play whines, draping herself on the table. Tim rolls his eyes again before turning back to Jason, smiling broadly.

“Is there anything that catches your eye?” Tim asks pleasantly. Jason actually looks at the menu, avoiding Tim’s eyes and Brown’s smirk.

“The, uh, the triple bacon burger, please,” Jason orders. Tim stands there, raising an eyebrow at the abrupt order, glancing at Brown, who shrugs, before turning to the kitchen with a hum.

“Oh, my God. That was awful. Seriously, have you never interacted with cute boys before?” Brown asks, fiddling with her chocolate shake. Jason scowls at her, hissing, “What the hell, Replacement? Warn a guy next time, shit. How do you even know him?” Brown blinks up at him, the picture of innocence.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend and he pushed me to become Robin,” she answers. Jason feels his brain short circuit as Brown’s words circle around him.

“Wait, he _knows_?!” Jason hisses. Brown looks far too entertained with this turn for Jason to be comfortable.

“Tim’s always known, Jason. The only reason he never wore the tights was because I was already on the streets and he knew Bruce needed someone to hold him back at the time. He’s crazy smart. Hell, I think he’s sent O anonymous tips from time to time,” Brown chatters when Tim abruptly arrives at the table. He puts an amazing looking club sandwich down in front of Brown and gives Jason a ridiculously good looking burger.

“One Blat-which for the bird and a triple bacon burger for the… um… never mind,” Tim backs off, his cheeks pinkening again, scampering behind the bar as a different employee peeks out from the kitchen and laughs. Jason watches Tim swat at the other employee, hissing something that makes them back off, before completely vanishing into the kitchen.

“You know, you’re lucky,” Brown mentions around her club, chewing noisily (with her mouth closed, thank Christ). Jason turns and raises a brow, picking up his burger.

“Yeah? And why is that?” Jason snaps, taking a bite out of his burger. He stops, blinks, then stares at the burger in awe. It tastes like three different kinds of bacon, none of them clashing with the other, and it’s fucking delicious.

“You get to eat what the owner cooks,” Brown finally answers, a large cheshire grin on her face as Jason starts to devour the burger. He pauses briefly to breath when Tim returns to the table.

“Is everything going good?” he asks. Without an ounce of shame, Jason turns to demand, “tell the chef to get out here and drop their pants. I feel like I owe them oral for this.” Brown cackles as Tim turns bright red and sputters, stumbling back and fleeing to the kitchen. The employee from before is heard howling with laughter and Tim’s strangled shouts can be heard in the dining room. Jason blinks, turning to Brown in confusion.

“What the hell is his problem?” Jason demands to know. Brown gasps, slapping the table’s surface as she continues to laugh.

“It’s- It’s not every day he has a-a customer demand he dr-drop his pants,” Brown manages to explain, giggling through the whole sentence. Jason considers this (the waiter actually owned the diner and cooked his meal. With knowing who Jason is, that’s three for three) before leaning forward and asking Brown, “How can I get the cute guy on a date with me?”


	2. Don't Subscribe (Shit happens too often)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy freak, what was that?” Tim hisses, holding the still hot pan carefully, moving to the side to look in his living room as the chat flips its collective shit. In his living room is both Nightwing and Robin, the angry boy scowling at the man who is currently flat on his back and staring at the ceiling.

If there was one thing that Tim is always nervous about when streaming a recipe or a question and answer session, it’s that something will happen just outside of his apartment that makes streaming awkward. It’s a constant fear he has, every time he hears the police sirens outside his window while talking about something or other. Like now, as he streams his attempts of trying a “Chopped-style” basket to cook an appetizer, entrée, and dessert from three random baskets chosen by his subscribers, Tim tenses at the sounds of police sirens.

“… now I’m going to put the peaches and syrup mixture on low heat, to try and almost caramelize the peaches for our shortcake. If you decided to follow along, keep stirring until the peaches have this little bit of crisp on its edges from the syrup,” Tim instructs, tilting his pan a little so the camera can catch sight of the peaches. He hears a number of new messages flood the chat as he continues to lightly caramelize his peaches. Once the fruit is prepared the way he wants, Tim moves the peaches off the stove to cool, turning off the burner as he goes. Pouring the peaches into the bowl with the mint and store-brought prunes, Tim jumps at the sound of glass shattering in his living room.

“Holy freak, what was that?” Tim hisses, holding the still hot pan carefully, moving to the side to look in his living room as the chat flips its collective shit. In his living room is both Nightwing and Robin, the angry boy scowling at the man who is currently flat on his back and staring at the ceiling.

“Okay,” Tim mumbles, turning back to the camera with a half grin, “I’m going to go help a friend who decided to break the window to get my attention, so those of you following, gently mix the peaches, syrup, prunes and mint together and pour it into our pound cake cups.” Taking off the microphone, Tim leaves it in the kitchen and closes the door between kitchen and living room.

“Why are you in my apartment?” Tim hisses, pulling Nightwing (Dick, the first Robin, the one who promised him the quad-flip, the one who started his passion for cooking for people) off his floor. Robin (Damian, Batman’s blood son, Al’Ghul’s grandson, the only Robin he hasn’t fed in costume) clicks his tongue and crosses his arms, glaring at Tim.

“Nightwing wanted to meet the boy who is Red Hood’s boyfriend,” Robin hisses back, crossing his arms defensively as Nightwing drops down on the couch with a dopey grin. Tim sighs through his nose, rolling his eyes, before quietly telling them, “Look, I’ve got a live stream going on in the kitchen, so let me finish that up, then we can talk.” The two vigilantes blink at him, causing him to roll his eyes again before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Alright guys, I’m back. Now what you need to do…” Tim continues, mixing the peaches with the mint and prunes before pouring the mix into the shortcake shells he made earlier. As he lets the syrup and juice from the fruit soak the cake a little, he mixes the cocoa meringue that will be piped on top. Nightwing and Robin slip into the room, staying behind the camera. Tim dutifully ignores them, making sure the meringue peaks are pointed enough before checking on the cakes. As the cakes are finally cooled, he pipes the meringue onto the fruit and grins at the camera.

“Voila! Peach bourbon shortcake with cocoa meringue, using store bought prunes, caramel bourbon, cocoa, and egg beaters egg whites. Thank you for joining this stream and I hope to see you all next month for Birthday extravaganza,” Tim signs off, turning off both the microphone and all the cameras he has set up around the kitchen. Logging out the chat, Tim turns only to yelp as Nightwing stands in his personal space, kind of squinting through his mask.

“You’re vaguely familiar,” he mumbles, leaning closer to Tim’s face. Tim leans back, feeling his face pinken (too close, holy hell! Get back, please!) as Robin huffs from where he is.

“Hey, boyfriend! You finished with the stream ye-? What’s going on here?” Stephanie asks as she enters the apartment through the front door. Nightwing looks up in surprise while Robin narrows his own eyes. Tim uses this opportunity to escape Nightwing’s leering to hide behind Steph.

“Um. Hello, concerned citizen. Did you know-” Nightwing fumbles with his words as Steph narrows her eyes at him.

“Knock it off, Big wing. He knows and you are avoiding my question,” Steph hisses, taking a threatening step toward Nightwing. Robin tenses while Nightwing blinks behind his mask.

“He what?” Nightwing sputters as someone lands on the glass in Tim’s living room, cursing as they hit the couch. The three vigilantes and the civilian all turn to look at the living room when Red Hood storms into the kitchen, his gun drawn and aimed at Nightwing.

“Get the hell out,” he hisses through his helmet, moving to put himself between Nightwing and Tim. Robin snarls, “How does he know?” while Steph snaps back, “What the hell are you two doing in a civilian home?”

“Did you tell him? Are you that desperate to go against Batman?” Nightwing asks, obviously judgmental, while Red Hood growls, “How about you stay the fuck away from my baby bird!” Tim calms his breathing, grabbing one of the appetizers he made (pan fried sweet potato fries with a spicy pesto; the ingredients had been sweet potato, avocado oil, jalapeños, and smoked salt) and shoving it into Steph’s mouth while giving the three costumed vigilantes a glare.

“You all need to calm down,” Tim orders, ignoring Steph’s pleased noise while she chews on the fry in her mouth. He crosses his arms, frowning at the small group in his kitchen, slowly explaining (using the voice Lacey used to their more problematic customers), “I figured out who Batman and Robin were when I was four. I met Robin when I was five and he ate something I made. I’m now a chef and, according to Steph and my staff, a YouTube star while Robin is now Nightwing. Or Batman. Depends on the night.” Once finished, he starts dishing out the entrée he made (Mexican Gyros; the ingredients in the basket had been lamb, pita, chipotle, and dark chocolate. He somehow made a mole within a short amount of time. Tim still doesn’t know how he managed his time so well, but the stream was impressed and he did it). He shoves a plate at Red Hood, only raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend when Red pointed at the helmet. Robin scowls, but still takes the plate while Nightwing looks a cross between constipated and trying to remember.

“Don’t break your brain trying to remember. You still need some brain cells to work cases,” Tim assures Nightwing while handing him a plate, ignoring Steph’s cackles and the cut off snort from Red Hood—He’s Jason now, he just took of the helmet—and the look of absolute wonder on Robin’s face.


	3. Feed the Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” someone (Tim recognizes that voice, oh no.) chirps behind him, “What are you doing out here?” Spinning around, Tim stares wide eyed at Robin (Dick Grayson), fumbling for his words.

Tim frowns at the Tupperware in his bag for the fifth time tonight. He knows that his current nanny, Ms. Juliet Harding, used Tupperware whenever she takes left overs home with her, but he still wasn’t sure the Tupperware would stay closed as he climbs and runs from rooftop to street to fire escape. He adjusts his camera, his eyes scanning the rooftop for the subtle shift of shadow or the flash of red-green-yellow.

“Hey,” someone (Tim recognizes that voice, oh no.) chirps behind him, “What are you doing out here?” Spinning around, Tim stares wide eyed at Robin (Dick Grayson), fumbling for his words.

“I- ah- um-! Food!” Tim blurts, pulling out the Tupperware and shoving it at Robin. The vigilante leans back a little, looking at the plastic ware in surprise. Tim stutters out, “I- uh- made food. For- for you. If you’re hungry, I mean.” Robin looks at him, before beaming at Tim.

“Thanks, I was feeling a bit hungry,” Robin admits, taking the container from Tim and opening it. The young vigilante stops, making Tim a bit nervous. All he did was cook some egg noodles, heat up beef gravy with mushrooms, and carefully browned the ground meat that was, according to the paper on the beef, a few days away from going bad.

“You said you made this right?” Robin asks slowly, looking over Tim. Tim smiles nervously (even though he knows what Dick is thinking, WHAT THE HELL WAS TIM THINKING WHEN HE ADMITTED TO COOKING?!?!)

“I made it with my nanny. She insisted that I know how to cook,” Tim lies easily, shifting a little to make himself even smaller, quietly asking, “Do you not like it?” That seemed to distract Robin enough to actually take a bite out of the food. The vigilante perks up, digging into the stroganoff excitedly as Tim fidgets with his camera.

“This is really good!” Robin insists, shoving the last few bites into his mouth. Tim looks at him in surprise, a small smile on his face.

“Really?” Tim asks, leaning forward a little. Robin hands back the Tupperware, ruffling Tim’s hair with a large grin.

“Yep! Really good,” Robin repeats, taking a step back. Glancing up to the rooftop, Robin turns back to Tim, telling him, “You better get home though. Don’t want you getting in trouble with your folks.” Tim tries not to flinch (not that his parents would even know, as they are currently in Brazil, or maybe it’s Argentina) as he nods, watching in awe as Robin zips himself with his grappling hook. After a moment of watching as Robin disappears, Tim realizes he didn’t take a single picture. Standing in the alleyway, Tim decides that it’s not too much of a loss, as he got to see Robin’s smile up close.

* * *

 

During the past three years that Tim has been taking pictures and giving Robin food, he never once really thought about what would happen if Dick stopped being Robin. However, Tim finds himself confronted with what would happen as Jason Todd stands before him, wearing the Robin uniform, and frowns at him.

“What are you doing out here, kid?” he demands, startling Tim. He fumbles with the container before shoving it into Robin’s hands.

“I- uh- made this. W-with my sitter,” Tim explains, curling in on himself shyly (Lacey was nice and she offered to stay the night, but she isn’t a nanny and Tim’s not a baby. She’s a sitter) as he fiddles with his camera. Robin eyes him warily, opening the container to see chicken, rice, and gravy. Tim stands by quietly as Jason stares at the food, occasionally glancing up at Tim. Finally, Robin starts to eat, humming a little pleased noise as he chews the chicken.

“This is pretty good, but I didn’t think four year olds should cook this sort of thing, even with someone to look over their shoulders,” Robin tells him. Tim looks up at Robin, a cross between offended and touched, scowling at the taller boy.

“I’m eight, not four,” Tim snaps, crossing his arms and glares up at Robin. The taller boy shrugs, shoveling more food into his mouth. Tim watches the vigilante dig into the food, mentally filing the differences between Dick and Jason (Dick would be commenting and chattering while eating, Jason just eats. Dick ate the food after a quick reassurance that he didn’t make it alone, Jason ate the food after looking it over carefully. The differences were minute). Finishing the food, Jason hands the Tupperware back to Tim with a soft “thanks”. Tim nods, returning the empty dishes to his bag, startling when he realizes that Robin is still looking at him.

“C’mon kid, let’s get you home,” he tells Tim, motioning for him to start walking. Hesitantly, Tim starts to walk back toward the outskirts of Gotham, Robin trailing him with a grin and jokes. Slowly, Tim relaxes while Robin looks at him with a small smile.

* * *

 

It’s been a few months since Robin(Jason)’s death, and Tim is nervous. Recently, Batman’s been beating the bad guys into unconsciousness. One of them ended up in a coma while a different one became paraplegic. He nibbles on the BLT Lacey threw together for a quick dinner (she started taking night classes at Gotham Tech, making room for checking up on Tim and working at a diner. Tim kinda hopes she gets a business degree to help him with his idea of running their own diner), phone out in case he needed to call the paramedics again.

“Look out below!” a girl’s voice calls from above him. Tim looks up, just in time for a brick to hit him in the face. Sputtering, Tim falls back against the wall, clinging to his sandwich while the girl in a purple costume lands in front of him.

“You okay?” she asks, the concern obvious in her voice. Normally, Tim would brush off the comment with a smile he learnt at one of the Galas he attended. Right now, however, as he blinks dazedly at the girl, he realizes he can figure out a way to stop Batman’s rampage.

“Do you want a sandwich?” he asks, holding out the other half of the BLT to the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help Tim, he's so awkward. Also, I ended it with Steph because I've had this chapter sitting, unfinished, on my computer for about a year. I needed to post this.


End file.
